


new york drabbles

by princegrantaire



Category: Dirty Pretty Things, The Libertines
Genre: M/M, New York City
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 04:28:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5483402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princegrantaire/pseuds/princegrantaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in present day but since it's an AU everyone is in their late twenties. After a disastrous break-up with Edie and more problems with The Libertines, Carl runs away to New York and finds himself living with Anthony.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. dogs

**Author's Note:**

> you can find more info here http://actualcarlbarat.tumblr.com/tagged/new%20york%20au

Carl knows he should just leave it. It's what any reasonable person would do. The problem here is the fact that Carl has never, in his life, been called a reasonable person. So he remains there, on a New York sidewalk, absent-mindedly petting the dog that knocked him down mere moments ago.

The dog, a scruffy-looking corgi, is panting (possibly as out of breath as Carl after their fall) but looking extremely happy nonetheless. It's not long before he's licking Carl's face, which only serves to make the dog happier and leaves Carl feeling even more pathetic. He thinks people are starting to stare at him.

One thing leads to another and he finds himself carrying the dog (yes, carrying because it refused to follow him after about two streets) to his and Anthony's cramped apartment.

New York is nothing like Carl imagined, a fact which remains frustratingly true even after living in the city for about a month and a half. It's less "make all your dreams come true and rise to fame once again" and more "this is worse than London" (the two things he's been telling Anthony since he arrived).

In Carl's defence, it was technically a last minute thought to come to America. To say he'd panicked wouldn't be completely false, and he hadn't really had anywhere else to go. But then again, even when your girlfriend leaves you, even when you feel cut off by just about all your friends and just not quite fulfilled by the life you're leading in a crowded city called London, not everyone would run away to an equally crowded city called New York to start a new life with their ex-bandmate they haven't so much as talked to in the best part of seven years.

Eventually making it back to the apartment, Carl sets the corgi down and knocks on the door. It occurs to Carl that he should have probably let the dog walk at some point, since there isnt't anything wrong with it. But alas, it's too late for that now.

The door opens, revealing a rather confused-looking Anthony Rossomando.

"Forgot my keys again," Carl mumbles with a sheepish smile.

That, for some reason, doesn't make Anthony any less confused.

"The dog," he says finally.

"Oh, yeah."

Carl picks the dog up again and carries it inside, kicking the door closed as an afterthought and making an extra effort not to meet his flatmate's eyes. He goes about finding something edible for it (a difficult task, he and Anthony live on a strict diet of take-outs and the occasional muffin Carl steals from work) and a clean bowl for water.

Anthony is leaning on the kitchen doorway and watching Carl with a smile that's equal parts confused and fond. Things are still fragile between them and neither knows where they stand.

Two days ago Carl had kissed Anthony for the first time.

It had all started when Carl had returned from work, loudly complaining about customers and common sense. Anthony had decide to go for a walk, to give him some space but things hadn't been much better when he'd returned. In fact, everything was much worse.

Anthony knew by now all the signs of one of Carl's depressive episodes. He also knew he needed to act fast if he didn't want a repeat of last time. Anthony had ordered Carl's favourite food, had found a decent movie to watch, and had even offered to cuddle with him on the couch (the latter had been a joke, but miraculously Carl had accepted).

Halfway through the movie Carl had started crying silently and mumbling about somone "actually caring" about him. Then he'd kissed Anthony.

They hadn't discussed it the next morning or yesterday or today and Carl had taken to acting like nothing had happened, Anthony had done much the same since he had no desire to make things awkward between them.

"So, can we keep it?" Carl asks at some point.

"Needs a name though," Anthony points out, not necessarily saying no.

They both stare at the dog, now sleeping casually on couch next to them.

"David," Anthony decides.

Carl makes a weird noise, something between a laugh and a gasp, and says "Bowie".

"Fine," says Anthony and after a moment he kisses the top of Carl's head. Carl smiles up at him.

Two weeks later, Carl finds an italian greyhound on the street. Anthony is considerably less understanding.


	2. halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthony and Carl are invited to a Halloween party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Also Anthony is irl friends with Ryan Ross, in case anyone's wondering)

Avoiding most of Anthony's friends had become somewhat of an achievement for Carl. Nearly a year had passed and the worst he'd ever had to endure was a shy smile or nod to the person he was being introduced to - a small gesture that was enough to say "yep, that's me, the boyfriend," but not enough to initiate any form of further communication.

That talent was something Carl planned on holding onto. That was, until the evening of the Friday before Halloween, when Anthony brought up a conversation he'd had with a friend earlier that day. A conversation that had included a casual invite to Carl's worst nightmare.

"A Halloween party?" Carl tried to mask his shock and increasing disapproval of the idea, though despite what he liked to think he knew he'd never been a good actor.

This showed, apparently, as Anthony picked up on his reaction instantly.

"You sound like you've been drafted into the Hunger Games, Carl. Yes, a Halloween party! It's not the end of the world."

"I wouldn't be so sure" sprung to mind immediately, but Carl stayed silent. His face must have been giving him away, however, as Anthony continued to question him.

"What's the matter? You don't want to go?"

"It's not that," Carl retaliated quickly. Though it was, most definitely, that,

"I just...I'm not sure I'll fit in, that's all. I mean, I don't know any of your friends."

"You'll have me."

"I know, but I don't want to be clinging onto you all night, it's not fair on you."

Anthony smiled in a sort of resigned fashion, draping an arm around Carl's body although he was already tucked closely beside him, "do you really think I'd mind?"  
He took Carl's hand gently in his own, fingers brushing lightly against the golden ring that wrapped itself around one of Carl's own. Anthony wore an identical one, and both seemed to glow softly in the dim yellow light of the living room.

"Two days ago, I married the person I wanted to be with forever - my closest friend in the whole world," Anthony began, intertwining their fingers.

Carl couldn't help feeling it was all very cliché yet still made him feel as if he could disintegrate at this very moment in time, in the best way possible.

He let himself relax against Anthony's shoulder as he continued, "and you can bet I want everyone to know about it. So you cling to me all you want, alright?"

Carl muttered into his husband's shirt, trying to suppress the smile creeping across his face, "you're so embarrassing."

Anthony laughed softly and kissed Carl.

***

When the door of the address Anthony had received via text swung open, Carl swore he could have died right there on the doorstep. In fact, he hoped he had died right there and then.

He hadn't been told who was hosting the party, the only answer he'd ever gotten to his persistent questioning was "nobody you know, Carl."  
If he'd known who this mysterious 'nobody' had been, his response to Anthony's suggestion of going to the party dressed as Bonnie and Clyde (Carl as Bonnie) would have been quite different to the one he actually gave.

Standing in the doorway with a can of Carling in one hand and the door handle in the other, was a man he'd seen too often all over the blogs of twelve year olds and teen magazines from 2006. A man whose snake-like demeanour had haunted him every time Anthony would casually slip his name into conversation when talking about his "circle of friends".

Ryan fucking Ross.

Carl adjusted his beret (because of course he had to end up with the world's worst Halloween costume) and entered the house, holding Anthony's hand quite tightly and refusing to look at Ryan.

Carl didn't like to use the term nemesis lightly (Anthony would later claim that was a lie since Carl called everything that mildly inconvenienced him his 'nemesis') but Ryan Ross was definitely his nemesis. He had actually met him once before and that had only served to strengthen his belief that Ryan was, for the lack of a better word, a snake.

***

Carl spent the better part of the evening introducing himself to all of Anthony's friends. There was just one problem to his usual 'smile and nod' approach, nowadays Anthony found it necessary to mention that he had recently gotten married, which in turn made everyone gasp and actually take an interest in Carl.

"Yeah, hey, I'm Anthony's wife," Carl said, smiling and shaking the hand of another one of Anthony's friends.

Carl cringed as Anthony elbowed him and he realized his mistake. "Uh, husband...I meant husband..."

Unfortunately that wasn't the first time he had made the horrible mistake of calling himself Anthony's wife. He was pretty sure he wasn't that plastered yet so he couldn't even come up with a reasonable excuse, except maybe he had gotten far too into the Bonnie character.

"Method acting," he whispered to Anthony, who stifled a laugh.

The party was actually considerably more fun than Carl had expected it to be but he wasn't about to willingly admit that any time soon. Even Anthony's friends weren't quite as bad as he expected them to be (except, evidently, for Ryan, whose face haunted Carl) and as usual he couldn't be happier around Anthony. The fact that he had actually found someone who understood him so well and loved him so much still baffled Carl and he found himself smiling shyly but fondly every time he glanced at their intertwined hands and matching rings.

***

At 27 years year old, Carl thought his days of unnecessarily embarrassing himself in alcohol-based party games were long since over. Spinning bottles and getting off with strangers in cupboards was, he'd hoped, no more than a collection of horrific memories that would keep him up at 3 am when he was in one of those moods. No, he had better things to do with the rest of his mature, adult, late 20s life than things like that - and so did everyone else at this party, as they too were, obviously, mature adults in their late 20s.

But of course, he was completely wrong. He'd forgotten that little Ryan Ross was merely clinging onto adulthood with a very weak grip, if he could even be called an adult at all. A reckless, callow 20 year old who'd pieced together a network of "friends" since moving to New York, one being Anthony (Carl adamantly believed the pair had been more than friends many years ago, despite Anthony always being quick to brush it off with a simple "he's ten years younger than me, you creep" every time the subject was brought up), Ryan probably thought he was on top of the world, and it pissed Carl off to no end. Ryan with his friends and his stupid party games, it was a recipe for disaster.

But Anthony insisted. "Come on Carl, stop being such a downer - it'll just be a bit of fun!"

He'd had experiences with this type of thing. They were never 'fun'.

"It's just like truth or dare," his husband had explained, already slightly tipsy and close enough for Carl to feel his breath on his skin, "and if I'm up for it, anyone should be."

Carl, who was possibly well past tipsy and in an uncharacteristically agreeable mood considering the situation, eventually agreed to play. It soon turned out that playing spin the bottle while drunk and next to Anthony wasn't something Carl was capable of as he kept momentarily falling asleep on his husband or simply becoming distracted.

"This is horrible," Carl found himself saying at some point, though his smile suggested he was aware of how much everyone wanted to beat him up for interrupting once again.

Without another word he stood up and took Anthony's hand, leading him to the first bathroom he could find in Ryan's immense house (it took Carl more than twenty minutes to accomplish that, and in his drunken state he considered it a record).

***

"Carl, why are we here?"

"It's...quiet," Carl mumbled against Anthony's neck. Some attempt at making out had been made but now Carl was on the verge of falling asleep, not that his husband minded much.

"We're not made for the party life anymor-" Carl began but he was quickly interrupted by the bathroom door opening (and slamming Carl against the wall in the process).

"Ryan! Hey," Anthony said, running a hand through his dishevelled hair. Of course, a case could be made about Anthony's hair always looking like that and the fact that Carl had been running his hands through it was barely noticeable.

"St-Stanthony, tell Ryan to fuck off," Carl muttered, from behind the door.

Anthony shrugged, as if it had just occurred to him that Carl was, in fact, still there, and laughed, closing the door in Ryan's face.

"Who the fuck is Stanthony?"

Carl stood up on his tiptoes and kissed Anthony before whispering something about him being Stanthony because he was St. Anthony. It didn't make sense to either of them but they didn't have time to discuss it as the door opened again.

Thankfully, Carl manage to avoid being crushed between the door and the wall this time, though he never did manage to catch a glimpse of whoever had made an attempt to enter the room, as Anthony didn't waste time in slamming the door right back in their face (this was followed by a worryingly loud crashing sound and a disgruntled "calm down, man" drawled out in an American accent from the other side).

They started kissing again, Anthony's hands running through Carl's hair as Carl clung to him. Their kisses weren't particularly hurried, although they were quite passionate, at least until there was another knock on the door.

Anthony quickly pulled away and glared irritably the door, shouting a rather harsh "piss off" in its direction. Before he had the chance to lean in and continue where they'd left off, Carl had started undoing Anthony's belt.

"I didn't know you were that desperate," he laughed, then suddenly became aware that Carl was pulling the belt all the way through the loopholes in his jeans. That baffled Anthony quite a bit.

His slightly strange actions were matched with an equally unexpected reply, "I'm using it to lock the door, you dirty bastard," Carl explained, already setting off in that direction to find something to tie the other end to, "we'll get onto that in a minute."

Anthony had to bite down on his lip to try and stop himself from laughing, but it came anyway. He wasn't sure what he found more amusing - Carl genuinely attempting to tie a door shut with a belt, or the fact both of them had gone this far without questioning the fact they quite close to getting off in Ryan Ross' bathroom.

"Carl, that's not going to work."

"Well unless you've got any better ideas-"

"We find a room with a lock on the door?"

Nothing seemed to sway Carl. He'd already managed to tie one end around the handle in the tightest knot he could manage with the stiff leather, and was in the process of wrapping the other end around one of the rails of the towel radiator. Anthony let himself fall back against the wall, watching as Carl made some finishing touches to his marvellous new invention. He couldn't say he was impressed, but Carl always did look sweet when he was proud of himself.

"There," he stood back to admire his creation, "who needs locks, eh?"

Anthony started laughing and took Carl's hand, bringing him close once again. Carl seemed less than satisfied with Anthony's reaction to his newest invention (perhaps his only invention) but he gave in and started kissing him again.

"You know I love you, right?" Anthony whispered, brushing a stray strand of hair from Carl's forehead.

"We're married," Carl said, smiling amusedly. "I love you too, Stanthony."

"Stanthony again!" Anthony exclaimed, faking annoyance, but he quickly went back to kissing Carl.

***

Carl was awoken the next morning but someone screaming right next to his ear, which did nothing to help with his hungover but it did manage to give him a slight heart attack, especially when he realized it was Anthony who was screaming.

"What the fuck!"

Carl tried to stand up but soon realized he was in a bathtub, not only that but he was in a bathtub with Anthony and both of them were soaking wet. Clearly someone had turned on the shower.

God, they must have fallen asleep right there and that snake Ryan Ross probably managed to get past Carl's "lock" and had turned on the shower in some horribly misguided attempt at waking them up.

"Serves you right for falling asleep in my fucking bathroom," Ryan said.

Anthony and Carl groaned, at the same time, but got up as quickly as they could and made their way outside, too embarrassed to even consider talking to Ryan.

***

Once they were outside it occurred to Carl that his skirt was ripped and his beret was missing, not to mention that both he and Anthony were extremely wet.

"We have to walk home like this, don't we?"

"Yep."


End file.
